


Galatea

by hotbitchshit69



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Romance, Murder, Violence, no pre planning we die like men, tags will be added as the story goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotbitchshit69/pseuds/hotbitchshit69
Summary: "I am the sculptor, a modern Pygmalion, and they are my masterpiece."ORFrankenstein meets Pygmalion except it's a Creepypasta fanfiction.(GENDER NEUTRAL READER)
Relationships: Creepypasta/Original Character(s), Creepypasta/Reader
Kudos: 7





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! this is the version of galatea with gender neutral pronouns (they/them). if you would like to read the version with feminine pronouns, click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966488/chapters/71082510). if you would like to read the version with masculine pronouns, click here. thanks!
> 
> to sum it up:  
> hi! this is my first time using ao3. i'm jumping right into it with this chapter, and i seriously hope you enjoy!

They didn't know where they were going. They didn't know where they could go. Hell, they didn't even know where they were. All they knew was that they needed to get away from where they had been. 

The forest was cold and quiet, dead leaves carpeting the forest floor in a sea of murky brown. They toed their way through the dying foliage, feet numb in their mud-caked slippers. The sun shone down on them like a spotlight, leaving them feeling exposed. Though the hood of their windbreaker was up, it didn't do much in the way of covering their face. They didn't like that, but it wasn't as if the woods were bustling with people. They were alone, and they hoped that it would stay that way.

There was a pale blue backpack slung over their shoulder, weighing them down. They could have ditched it, and the further they traveled the more inclined they were to drop it, but they couldn't leave it behind. Everything they needed to know was in that bag, and they couldn't live without it. Not properly, anyway. They knew that it would hurt them too much in the future if they’d given up the one opportunity they had to know who they really were.

It had been three days since they’d last slept, and they were exhausted. But as much as they might've missed their bed and a warm place to stay, they were not going back. They  _ couldn't _ go back. The cabin was a place of lies and secrets and death. It was a gravesite. They wanted no part of it.

The leaves on the ground crunched with every step that they took, the noise satisfying their ears in a way that only a few things could. They had always been fond of late autumn – at least, they thought they were. It was odd how they knew what they liked and disliked yet couldn't remember a thing about their life before they’d woken up. They couldn't even remember experiencing their own death. It had come to them in nightmares once or twice, but those had disappeared from their memory entirely, only appearing in fleeting moments of déjà vu. 

In a way, not knowing was refreshing. They had the freedom to be who they wanted to, unrestricted by the binds of their past!

Oh, who were they fucking kidding.

The bag on their back bounced rhythmically. It strained their shoulder. They didn't know why a bunch of books were so heavy. Perhaps, they mused, it was the things that the books contained that made them so heavy to them, and not the books themselves. Obscure symbolism, mental strain, whatever. No matter what it was, the bag was still heavy, and they found themselves growing weary the more they thought about it.

They took deep breaths as they walked, the cold air chilling their lungs uncomfortably. The forest smelled dully sweet, like some sort of sap, and pine. Under any other circumstances, they’d be appreciating the woods around them, taking in nature as it got ready for its yearly rest. As macabre as it might've been, they found it calming to watch the leaves turn. Everything was quiet as it wound down, eventually falling asleep for the winter. They enjoyed that feeling, the freedom of being alone, tainted as it might be by the creeping paranoia that had haunted them since they’d left the cabin.

The sun inched slowly down the horizon, the sky turning all kinds of delicious oranges and yellows that satisfied their brain. It also worried them; the sunset would only bring the chilly, unforgiving blanket of the night. They didn't think that they would be able to make it through the cold for another night. They might not have been anything like a human, but they did know that the cold bothered them like it would anyone else. They would not die, but they would most definitely freeze.

They cursed themselves for not bringing better coverage, but deep down they knew that they couldn't have risked grabbing anything more than what they quite literally had on their back. They had left the house in a panicked frenzy and they weren’t thinking straight. They hadn't even picked up a weapon.

When that realization hit them, they cursed aloud. No warmth, no food, and no means of defending themselves. They were roadkill, dead meat walking. Well, technically they were already dead meat walking. They didn't like that thought at all, but they were reminded every time they looked at their bluish patchwork skin. They hated themselves, what they had become.

They didn't have time to dwell on that, though, because the first stars were glimmering in the sky that was now a darkening purple. They thought about making a wish, wanting it all to be a dream; they wanted to wake up the next morning in a warm, familiar bed, and a bedroom that they’d decorated themselves. They wanted so desperately to be home, but they didn't know what home was. Did they even have one?

A glimmering in the distance caught their eye, and at first, they thought it was just stars, or maybe the moon. But when they squinted to get a better look, they realized that the light was not small or organic enough to be stars, boxy spots through the trees lined in neat rows. Their breath caught, and they realized that it was a building. It appeared to be several stories high from what they could see through the trees, and they could smell smoke, from a fire, maybe? Or a fireplace. The thought of warmth and comfort tempted them closer to the building, but they stopped when they realized the situation that they were in.

A building meant people, and people meant community and help, but that also meant that they might end up dead, or worse, an experiment or a specimen, or-

They were so caught up in their thoughts that they didn't hear the leaves crunch behind them, or the gun cock, or the shot that echoed through the trees around them. The next thing they knew, they were on their knees, looking down at the prominent hole in their chest. Their ears were ringing, and their head swam, but not because of any pain that they could feel. They were so taken aback, and so, so terrified.

It wasn't blood loss that knocked them out, or even the shock from staring at the wound, though the latter might have done it eventually. In the end, it was the butt of their attacker's handgun smashing against the back of their head that changed everything they’d ever known.

Welcome to your new life, [Y/N].


	2. A MASKED MAN AND A SHITTY HOSPITAL GOWN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Y/N] wakes up to their new normal. It's... weird. But it could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there!
> 
> so this is the first official chapter of this fic. it's around 2.8k words in google docs, and i have to admit that i'm proud of it.
> 
> please note that this chapter is not proofread (yet). if you find any errors please point them out to me. i'm looking to edit and then post this chapter to both other versions of the fic by tomorrow night if possible.
> 
> and i'd like to really quickly thank the people that have read and left kudos on this fic. it genuinely means so much to me that people have enjoyed my work! you guys have no idea.
> 
> please make sure to read the end notes! they're important :)

[Y/N] was awake.

They didn't remember when they’d woken up. Things got dark when they fell unconscious, and then it was bright, and then they realized they were staring up at a buzzing fluorescent light that turned their surroundings a yellowy white. The air around them hung with the faint smell of mold and the stronger stench of peroxide. They had never been to a hospital before, at least not to their own knowledge, but this would have been what they thought it smelled like.

[Y/N] was on a bed that was not their own, the mattress hard against their already sore back and the sheets too thin to keep them from shivering. Still, they felt oddly comfortable, and so they lay there for a few minutes, unblinking and not registering where they were. They appreciated their sleepy stupor, and they welcomed the oblivious haze that just waking up had brought them. Then, they remembered everything, much too fast.

They took a moment to gather their thoughts, revisiting the days prior to their assault at night. They’d... run away, from that stupid, shitty cabin and the stupid shitty man that lived in it. Just thinking about him made [Y/N] want to retch. He was a liar and a cheater, and he was the only one who knew why and how [Y/N] existed the way they did. Unfortunately, as much as [Y/N] wanted to spend their time sending bitter, angry thoughts his way, they had to get their bearings. 

They were in the woods, right? Yes, they were in the woods, with their bag of books, and they were running, except they couldn't run anymore, so they were walking. And it was cold. Oh, it was so very cold, and they couldn't continue, but that didn't stop them. How long had they been walking? Three days? Three whole days making a useless trek through their own personal hell left alone to their own thoughts and paranoia.

But then they found a building, a mansion? Or maybe a hotel or a lodge of some sort, but it looked warm and welcoming. They’d wanted to go inside, they remembered. They wanted help, and home, and someone who actually cared about them. And then-  _ oh  _ . Right. They got shot.

[Y/N] blinked at the paneled ceiling, trying to register that fact. They were shot, right where their heart was, but they were alive and well. How was that possible? How were  _ they  _ possible? They had so many unanswered questions, and things just kept on getting more and more confusing. It was frustrating, yes, but also incredibly terrifying.

And now, here they were, in a place that they did not recognize. That raised another question – where the hell even  _ were  _ they?

Slowly, they sat upright, and they became aware of the dull throb in the back of their head and the nerves in their chest screaming. The pain didn't necessarily bother them the way it would bother anyone that was normal, however it did annoy them, and they had to shift to get a bit more comfortable. [Y/N] pushed the thin white sheets off of their body, noticing the questionable dark stains on the fabric. They found themselves mildly disgusted and then realized that whatever weird blotches there might've been on the shitty sheets were the least of their problems. Well, the least of their problems for the time being, anyway. 

Looking down at themselves, they saw that they wore not the t-shirt and flannel pajama pants that they’d been traveling in, but a faded blue hospital gown peppered in dark polka dots. They felt a bit nauseous at the thought of someone undressing and redressing them, not because they were worried someone would take advantage of them, but because they felt that anyone would be repulsed at the ugly quilt of flesh that their body was.

A quick look down their shirt told them that their gunshot wound had been bandaged and probably stitched up. They assumed the same for the entrance wound on their back. They were grateful for that, at least, but this still pushed the biggest question they had: Who would help them? And why?

[Y/N] looked around at their surroundings. Their sleepy subconscious had told them that they were in some sort of medical environment, and that observation seemed to be correct. To their left, there was something akin to a kitchen countertop lining the walls. There were cabinets both above and below it, as well as a sink. Next to the countertop, on the wall across from [Y/N], was a tall gray door with one of those metal knobs that you only really see in places like public schools and office buildings.

To the left of the bed, there was a tray with medical tools laid out neatly on it. They recognized them from the cabin's basement: A syringe, scissors, tweezers, several scalpels. The worries about being experimented on resurfaced in [Y/N]'s mind, but they quickly subsided. If they were being kept hostage they’d be tied down, probably in someplace clean and high-tech, and they probably would have been kept under strict surveillance. This sorry excuse for an infirmary was far from a government-funded research project, and there didn't seem to be any nosey scientists or security cameras in sight.

Once again, they were left confused. If they weren’t being experimented on, then what was going on? Where the hell were they? There weren't any answers in sight. The only answers they could've had were in that goddamn bag, and even they couldn't have helped them in this situa-

Oh, shit.

Another wave of panic hit them. The bullet must've gone through the bag. The notebooks could've been shredded for all they knew. Where even were the books? They didn't see them anywhere in the musty infirmary. Someone had taken them, maybe, or maybe they were still in the woods, being ruined by weather and eaten by animals. [Y/N] began to hyperventilate, their chest heaving with each shallow, scratchy breath they took. Their hands gripped the sheets so hard that if they had any blood their knuckles would have turned white. They needed to know, it was the only way, they couldn't go back, they couldn't see him again. They knew he would kill them, or worse.

In the midst of their panicked thoughts, the door to the infirmary squealed on its hinges as it opened, and a towering figure stepped inside, holding something. [Y/N]'s panic became something new: fear.

The figure was clad in black from head to toe. [Y/N] couldn't tell if he'd noticed them or not because the man's face was covered with a bright blue mask that contrasted with his entire outfit. A questionable black liquid dripped from the seemingly bottomless eye holes in the mask. The man's(?) footfalls were heavy as he stepped over to the countertop to set down whatever he'd carried in with him. He seemed to ignore [Y/N] completely, moving things from the counter into the cabinets to make enough space. He was so tall that he didn't even have to strain to reach the top shelf of the upper cabinets. The man seemed so invested in moving shit around that [Y/N] actually started to think that if they stayed completely still the man would forget about them and leave. They were utterly terrified of this masked figure and did  _ not  _ want to interact with him, no matter what kind of explanation he could provide.

Unfortunately, their hopes were crushed when the guy turned around. He did it slowly and nonchalantly; he knew [Y/N] was there. Well, no shit he knew they were there. But he wasn't surprised or angry to see them, or at least, it didn't seem like it? He'd turned around as if he knew them, like he was their doctor or something, and was about to give them news about their condition. [Y/N] didn't know why they were overanalyzing the way the dude turned around. Perhaps it was because it was the only way they could explain the situation to themselves. And then the person spoke, and [Y/N] stopped thinking completely.

"Feeling well-rested?"

His voice was deep, sort of raspy, yet almost soothing, and not at all how [Y/N] expected him to sound. [Y/N] inhaled sharply, doing their best not to make too much noise. They didn't say anything, and instead simply stared at the person across the room from them like a deer in headlights. It was a simple question, of course, but that was sort of what had taken them aback. The circumstances that had brought them into the care of this person (if he even  _ was  _ a person) were far from normal, [Y/N] was far from normal, and the man that was now leaning against the counter was definitely far from normal. The mask told [Y/N] that much.

"Not talking, huh?" The guy tilted his head slightly, and [Y/N] pictured whatever quizzical expression he wore under the mask. "I can understand that. I'm not going to press you about much. I thought I'd have to shock you awake," He gestured to the thing that he'd brought into the room with him. It looked like some piece of machinery that was heavily modified with several pieces of wire and scrap metal. There were two longer wires hanging from the box, each with metal clips on the end.

"That's what the bolts on your neck are for, I'm assuming?" Mask Dude, as [Y/N] had dubbed the man in their head, gestured towards [Y/N] with a gloved hand, and they noticed with a dreadful thought that his fingers looked abnormally long. Mask Dude was pointing at the metal bolts on either side of [Y/N]'s neck. Without thinking, they nodded once in confirmation. When it came to how their body worked, that was about the extent of what they knew.

Mask Dude mirrored the action and then continued speaking without missing a beat, "So, I've stitched up both the entrance wound and exit wound. You should be dead, but I think you know that anyway. There wasn’t much I could do about your head. I didn’t find anything there and judging by the uh, lack of blood coming from your bullet wound, I don’t think there’s any internal bleeding.”

He looked at [Y/N] for a moment, as if waiting for them to say something. When they didn’t, Mask Dude continued speaking, recommending ways to quell whatever pain they might’ve been in. In a way, [Y/N] was sort of right about him being a doctor-figure. Apparently, he’d been the one to stitch them up and get them in working order, for lack of a better phrase. [Y/N] was grateful for that, and also still shocked by the kindness offered to them by this terrifying stranger.

“-any questions?”

[Y/N] blinked, snapping out of their dazed thoughts to look at Mask Dude. They had  _ so  _ many questions, they didn’t even know where to start. Was he the one who shot them? Where was their bag? Where were they? Why did he help them? Who was he?

[Y/N] didn’t exactly want to speak, but sacrifices had to be made in order to get information. This guy seemed pretty willing to be cooperative and help [Y/N] out, so there probably wasn’t any harm in trying to get some answers about their situation. Perhaps [Y/N] had found someplace they could stay, at least for a while.

“No..?” Mask Dude once again pulled [Y/N] back to reality. They pictured him quirking an eyebrow at them under his mask, and then took a deep breath, slightly loosening their iron grip on the thin bedsheets.

“Where-” [Y/N] croaked, suddenly painfully aware of how thirsty they were. They didn’t really  _ need  _ to drink water, but it certainly helped when it came to talking out loud. They coughed for a second, Mask Dude not moving from his spot across the room. When they finally felt that their throat was lubricated enough for them to form proper sentences, [Y/N] tried again.

“Wh-Where am I?”

[Y/N] stumbled over their words, partly because of nerves and partly because they hadn’t said anything in at least three days. Their voice was scratchy and dry, and at that moment they hated it almost as much as they hated their physical appearance.

“Where are you?” Mask Dude echoed, appearing about as thoughtful as he could with his mask hiding his expression. For a moment [Y/N] worried that even  _ he  _ didn’t know where they were, but then he continued speaking.

“You’re in a sort of safe haven for people that, er, aren’t quite normal, to put it generously,” He nodded as if confirming his own statement. [Y/N] sensed that there was a lot more to it than that. “I don’t really want to elaborate too much, since Slender’ll fill you in on all that. He had us take you in for a reason.”

“Slender..?” [Y/N] tilted their head. What kind of name was Slender? Was he the guy who ran this place? They assumed they’d meet the guy eventually, so they just asked the next question on their mind. “Who are you?”

Mask Dude didn’t say anything for a minute. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and he seemed to be contemplating what to say. Finally, albeit a bit dryly, he introduced himself, “I’m Jack. Call me EJ.”

EJ? His name could be weirder, [Y/N] shrugged mentally, though they did wonder what the E in his alias stood for. They wouldn’t press it, they decided. Names sometimes were a sensitive subject, and Mask Dude- _ EJ  _ seemed like he didn’t hate [Y/N]. They didn’t want to ruin the acquaintanceship, especially since EJ had implied there were other people outside of the room they were in. 

EJ tilted his head at [Y/N] expectantly, flexing his abnormally long fingers. Right, they were still on about questions. Taking another deep breath, [Y/N] asked, “Were you the one that shot me?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and EJ shook his head. He seemed to be laughing quietly. “Hell no. Guns aren’t my thing. I find scalpels more efficient and precise. Leaves less of a mess.”

If [Y/N] could go pale, they would have. What? Scalpels? Efficient? What the hell was he on about? They were beginning to get a very bad feeling about wherever they were. Was EJ talking about what [Y/N] thought he was talking about? They silently prayed to whatever god that might have been out there that the creepy masked guy was just on about weird hunting tactics and not homicide. Then again, now that [Y/N] thought about it, he did kind of look like your textbook serial killer. 

_ Jesus Christ, am I trapped in some sort of hellhole murder house!? _

[Y/N] pushed the thought aside quickly, deciding they would talk now and worry later. If they  _ were  _ in a murder house, they weren’t dead or being tortured. Things seemed to be going in their favor.

EJ’s voice brought [Y/N] out of their worrying for the third time, “The guy who  _ did  _ shoot you is a bit of an asshole. If you run into him, don’t expect him to apologize. He’ll probably just ignore you.”

Wow, that certainly made [Y/N] feel better about getting shot. The guy must’ve been an asshole if he didn’t care to apologize to someone after pumping their guts full of lead. Or maybe he was just a serial killer. That worry definitely still gnawed at [Y/N]’s subconscious.

“Now, uh, assuming you don’t have anything else you want to ask me, I was told to take you up to see Slender once you woke up. You kind of have to do that if you want to stay here.” EJ stood up a bit straighter, getting ready to leave the room.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” [Y/N] said, instinctively swinging their legs over the side of the bed and standing up. Since they’d been bedridden, they stumbled and nearly fell, not used to walking. EJ made no move to help them. Weird.

Grimacing, [Y/N] noticed that their feet were bare, and the hospital gown didn’t do much in the way of covering anything below their knees. They frowned, too embarrassed about it to ask if there were any clothes that they could wear. They doubted it; the clothes that they had before they got shot were in rough shape from their trek through the forest, and there had to be a massive hole in their t-shirt.

“You ready?” EJ asked expectantly, as if [Y/N] were about to go on a terrifying adventure and not a hopefully short walk through whatever kind of building they were in. In a way, [Y/N] thought, it was kind of a terrifying adventure. They didn’t know who (or what) they would run into on their way to wherever this Slender character spent his time. Maybe they were just psyching themselves out. They hoped that that was the case.

With a sigh, [Y/N] nodded. EJ stepped over to pull the heavy-looking door open, and into the hallway they ventured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> i know it's a bit boring, but like i said there's still some basis that i need to set and there's also some worldbuilding i'm looking to do.
> 
> i also want to let you know i've made a twitter account! it has the same handle as my ao3 account. if people end up following it, i'll post whenever i update this fic on there, even if it is just one person looking for updates.
> 
> if you enjoyed, i heavily encourage you to leave kudos haha. it means a lot to me.
> 
> that's all! i'll have the next chapters out hopefully within a week or so.

**Author's Note:**

> sloppy prologue, i know. i just needed a decent basis. this was originally going to be a full chapter but honestly i couldn't bear doing that much stalling.  
> any guesses as to who might've shot you? also, let me know if you have feedback! i'm not looking for direct criticism, as this is just something i'm doing for fun, but if you guys have any ideas or suggestions let me know! if anyone is actually reading this, that is.


End file.
